Having laid awake listening to the snuffles from The Baby since 4.30am it’s now 6.20am. I’ve managed to move him from my chest to the bed and now I’m sandwiched I between two snoring boys.
I can hear The Dog calling out, I go downstairs to the most horrific dirty protest to date. Even the dog is suffering with over indulgence from a weekend at my parents!
Antibacing everything within an inch of its life I switch the kettle on and do some kitchen based chores.
7am and I go upstairs to wake The Baby for his feed delivering The Bearded One a coffee in the process. The Baby is so poorly that he coughs until he throws up. Having covered me in sick from shoulder to ankle I gently ask The Bearded One if he can wake up to help.
Poor bastard looks terrified. He can’t work out if I’m in a good or bad mood, if he’s in trouble or what time it is. With one eye still closed he tries to sit up and chat to me as if he hasn’t been asleep. I may be bias but he is the cutest thing ever first thing in the morning. We joke that he has a goal keeper for his brain and it doesn’t always wake up when Jamie does – anything can come out that mans mouth. It’s usually innocently offensive. I can see him trying so hard to function, he delicately rubs my leg to see if any affection is coming back his way. I reassure him he’s not in trouble.
We decide to keep The Small One off school today so she can try to get over her cold. The Bearded One then points out that means he can do the school run. I’m over the moon! Not only do I not have to deal with traffic but I can look after my poorly baby and watch Disney movies snuggled up with one of the munchkins. Hmmm I wonder if I can systematically keep them off school one at a time? I’d have someone to play with then!
As The Bearded One loads everyone off to school I start on some housework. Part of me wants to see how much I could get done whilst I’d theoretically still be in the car.
I’ve done 2 loads of washing, cleaned the kitchen and put dinner in the slow cooker for tonight. Amazing!
The Baby wakes up for a feed as The Small One is snuggling down in front of Nickelodeon. I love spending time with her because out of all of them she has the most active imagination. She is also the biggest Disney fan.
The Baby now napping and The Small One glued to tv, I manage to get in the shower and carry on with the housework. I’m amazed at how much I’ve got done. I’ve even cleaned both bathrooms!
The Baby wakes up and a familiar smell fills the air. Poor little man is obviously not well because what he produced was unholy!
I clean him up and go to take him downstairs when I notice a piece of fluff on my newly hoovered carpet. It is important at this point to remember that the following events unfolded over a piece of fluff.
Holding The Baby in my right arm I bend down to pick it up moving the dirty nappy into my right hand as I do so. I rarely carry more than one thing whilst carrying him after his infamous “salmon” moment. The Bearded One and I had been sat on the sofa one evening when The Baby straightened his body and kept out of my arms mirroring a salmon leaping from a stream. Luckily The Bearded One caught him and since that day we have never truly trusted our grip on him.
So walking to my newly cleaned bathroom I go to put the fluff in the bin when The Baby leans backwards. In my panic (and still holding the fluff) I steady my grip of him by bringing my left hand across his back to catch him. In doing so I forget I’m still holding the dirty nappy, before I could stop it my hand has collided with the nappy, squashing it against The Baby’s back and spraying shit EVERYWHERE. Up his back, down my front but more importantly over my newly cleaned bathroom.
I’m at a loss for words, especially as I’m still holding the fucking fluff! Quietly I strip him off before The Small One gets wind of what’s happened and tells Daddy that MWTMH was painting the bathroom with The Baby’s poo, thus destroying all my hygiene rules!
The Baby thinks the whole thing is hilarious, luckily it is only superficial damage on him and he doesn’t require an immediate bath. Having changed him and myself I lay him on the play mat acting as if nothing happened whilst telling The Small One she will need to use the downstairs bathroom for a minute. I shove our shit covered clothes in the washing machine and go back upstairs to clean the scene of the crime.
Having removed all trace of poo using the spare toothbrush to clean the tiles, I go back downstairs only to find The Baby has thrown up over himself. As I change him for the third time today I open his nappy and get a face full of piss. Wonderful.
Everyone changed and happy I get a text from The Bearded One asking if I can run a bath. I think it would be too much of a piss take to say “yes, but please don’t make a mess”.